Creating New Travel Traditions

When B was growing up, every summer from when he was six months old through high school graduation, his parents loaded up the family in the RV to head to Sandusky to camp at Cedar Point. His childhood summers were full of traditions: riding the Junior Gemini with his brother until they puked, stuffing his face with fried Lake Erie perch, and strolling along the boardwalk to the sound of the Beach Boys. My childhood had none of this: we traveled a bit, but had no annual trips, no travel traditions.

I’ve always been envious of people who have travel traditions. Going to the same beach every summer, the same lake every Memorial Day, the same mountain every winter. There’s a familiarity that comes with going to the same vacation spot every year – you have your grocery store, your sunset boating spot, your go-to coffee shop. So when B & I went to the Finger Lakes for the first time two months ago on a press trip, & had a rather enjoyable time, something in me clicked. Maybe this could be the start of a new tradition?

This past Labor Day weekend, we went back to the Finger Lakes. We rented a no-frills cabin (okay, is wifi a frill?) on Seneca Lake & hiked & kayaked & ate too many s’mores & drank local wine. We started new traditions.

It turns out B still has campfire building skills from all that camping as a kid & my tolerance for staying somewhere other than the Four Seasons is higher than I thought. I spent the weekend dirty in hiking boots & wet in kayaking shoes (I actually laughed as I was packing to go home: why had I brought two dresses & only one pair of shorts to hike in?). There was a TV in our cabin connected to nothing but a DVD player & I only cared for about two minutes when I realized I’d miss the football game. I made pancakes for breakfast & B grilled chicken for dinner. We did all the dishes by hand. It rained & we played Scrabble. Like real Scrabble on a board with wood tiles, not an app on our phone. We met friends for a leisurely dinner overlooking the vineyards at a little local cafe. We sat on the end of our pier nearly every single night to watch the sunset & talked about everything & nothing. We downloaded a star map & looked up at the night sky for the first time in forever. We slept with the windows open & the deafening silence was only broken by the sound of acorns falling off the trees.

I think, finally, 32 years into my life, I’ve found my annual travel tradition. I can’t wait to replicate memories & build new ones next Labor Day weekend in the Finger Lakes.